


WW What?

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, No Man's Land, Time Travel, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: A rogue reaper wants the Winchesters to know what it's like witnessing madness and cruelty among humans, but not being able to fix anything. So it sends them a hundred years into the past to observe...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zetal (Rodinia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/gifts).



> In response to Z's challenge to write Dean and Sam ending up in one of my favorite things to study/teach.

The task was simple. Observe. Don't fix anything. And because they were the Winchesters, they were failing miserably at the task they were given.

“It's not fixing anything just to work some freaking triage, okay?”

“That's exactly what it is,” Sam snapped back at his brother, even as his own hands worked tirelessly to bind a man's leg in a tourniquet.

Dean growled something back, but it was lost in the rumble of the German guns.

The noise and the smell were relentless. Sam was gagging as he moved on to another soldier, who was screaming enough to possibly have a chance. He wanted to go home, where the dangers he faced were usually of the supernatural variety, and not the endless trench warfare sort.

Everyone around them acted as though they belonged, which was ridiculous, especially since they had figured out pretty quickly that this was a French battalion. No one had any trouble understanding them, however, and they understood those around them easily enough. The fact that they were dressed for hunting a rogue reaper instead of making a mad suicide run through No Man's Land, well, that didn't seem to bother anyone either. 

The reaper had gone off the rails back in their time, but apparently it had all begun here, in 1917 France. That was when the reaper had begun losing its mind. That happened a lot during times of massive death tolls, Castiel had sighed, right before the reaper had used a banishing sigil to blow him to who knew where. Why it hadn't worked on the reaper itself was still a point of contention between the brothers. 

“How do we even know Grim is even a reaper at all? He blew Cas to Timbuktu, but aren't reapers angels? Shouldn't he have-” 

“I said I don't know! Cas said he was a reaper!” Sam shouted back. “So my guess is he's a reaper! He's just used a banishing sigil we haven't seen before.”

“I thought you knew all the-”

“Evidently not! Sue me!”

Dean sighed. “So what? We can't not help these guys!” 

And that was the point. They were incapable of not offering help to those hurt on the field around them. Bullets seemed to whiz right past them, and yet they could still affect the injured in critical ways. 

“Goddamn, I hate reapers!” Dean was snarling.

“We aren't supposed to be helping these guys. They're supposed to die and be reaped. That's what the thing said.” 

And there it was. 

Dean and Sam both fell backwards as the figure appeared on the battlefield. Sam's screamer had died of shock right before his eyes, and there was his reaper. It was the same one who had sent them here.

The creature blinked at them slowly. “You're not supposed to be here."

Dean rolled his eyes. “Story of our lives, eh, Sammy?” 

“Seems that way.”

The reaper’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

“Maybe you could tell us. Because in a hundred years, you go nuts and start bringing people back to life just to reap them over and over again, and it's causing a bit of a backup in the void, pissing off the other reapers and stuff.” 

Sam nodded. “It's a hundred years from now, and you sent us here to observe. Said we shouldn't try to fix anything.” 

If it were possible for a reaper to appear more hollow than usual, this one did. “I can't fix anything,” it cried, in a mournful howl. “I'm just made to watch and reap. The cruelty of men is at its height, and I cannot stand it! Just let me reap one side or another in whole, and then it would all be over!”

Dean took a step toward him. “What? You mean, kill an entire side? Like...all the Germans or all the French?”

“Isn't it better than to let them kill one another so bitterly? But they won't let me. And so instead, I must reap them all, one at a time. The Valkyries take their few, but everyone else is my responsibility, and I just can't take it anymore! They pray for me!” The reaper put his hands over his ears to block out the sounds of war and misery. “They pray for the end. Perhaps Death Himself hears an occasional prayer like that, to be reaped to stop the suffering. But I have never before heard souls praying for death, and now I hear it every moment. It won't stop. For every man who fights against me, there is another begging me to end his suffering.”

The brothers looked out over the gray, stripped land, covered in barbed wire and bloody bodies. 

“It is a wonder that it took me a hundred years to lose my mind,” the reaper whispered. Then he sighed. “But you aren't supposed to be here. I'm sorry I sent you to this awful place in time. I will return you to your time. They say this is the war which will end all wars. I hope this is true. I hope by your time, all is peaceful collaboration and natural deaths. Good luck to you.” 

Before the brothers could respond, they were transported back to the warehouse where the reaper had been found. At that moment, they saw Castiel press his angel blade through the reaper's chest.

He turned to stare at them. “You're back!” 

Dean shook himself. “Yeah. Same reaper threw us back to the future.” 

The younger man sighed. “It was horrible, Cas,” he murmured.

Castiel frowned sympathetically. “The angels watch. We observe. But we've never really understood. Humans war on other humans in such brutal ways. The reaper had a job to do. But I don't blame him for going crazy while doing it.”

Sam looked at his brother. “We couldn't do it.”

Dean licked at his lips, and took a deep breath. “I've never been good at the whole reaper gig. The ring never fit quite right. Come on, little brother. Let's get back to what we're supposed to do. Saving people might not be part of the reaper job description. But it will always be part of ours.” 

Sam was glad. It was the part he liked most.


End file.
